The Cat of Christmas Past (2 page)

“There’s a big beige and white cat looking in the window at me. I think he wants in. I know animals aren’t allowed in the church building, but it’s snowing and he looks cold.”

I walked across the room and opened the door. In walked a large cat with a collar around its neck. I bent down and looked at the name tag. It read Ebenezer. I smiled as I realized we’d just found the help we’d need to make our miracle happen.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked Ebenezer.

My furry companion and I stood in front of the tall wrought-iron gate that secured the house where Balthazar Pottage lived, on the private island he owned. It had already been a long day and the resolve I’d felt earlier that day was beginning to waver. It was cold and windy and snow flurries danced in the air. I would have appreciated the seasonal weather had I not been exhausted after the rough ferry ride to San Juan Island, followed by the extremely frigid private boat ride my brother Danny had arranged for me with his friend Trevor.

Ebenezer squeezed through the opening between the bars, seemingly answering my question.

“Okay, I get the idea that you think we need to do this, but I’m never going to fit through the opening between these bars and the gate is locked. Any ideas?”

“Meow.” Ebenezer took off along the tall stone wall that surrounded the property. I could no longer see where he was, but he’d headed east, so I walked in that direction, looking for an opening of some kind.

I’d dressed warmly that morning in a thick turtleneck sweater, heavy jeans, and a down jacket, but with the steady wind the temperature had dropped to the point where even though I was dressed for the weather I was freezing. I hoped Ebenezer actually had a plan and wasn’t taking me on a wild-goose chase. I found I much preferred the thought of curling up by the fire in my little oceanside cabin with Cody and my dog Max.

The thought of Cody made me frown. He wasn’t going to be happy that I’d come on this little adventure with only a cat for protection. We’d discussed it after we went back to my place the previous evening and agreed that we’d work on the project together. Was it my fault that this pushy cat wanted to visit the old man on the same day Cody was in Seattle covering a story for the newspaper?

Surely he’d understand.

Or maybe not.

The last thing I wanted to do was get into an argument with the man I loved two weeks before Christmas.

I pulled my jacket tighter around my petite frame. It didn’t snow often in the islands, and we mostly enjoyed a mild climate, but every now and then a storm blew down from the north and blanketed the area in snow and below-average temperatures. The odds that I’d have cause to head out on a recognizance mission during such a storm were remote, or at least they would be if some unseen force hadn’t decided to make me the guardian of the cats Tansy was forever sending my way.

Tansy and her best friend, Bella, are rumored to be witches. Neither of them will confirm or deny their witchy status, but both women know things that can’t be empirically explained. Bella and Tansy lived in the touristy village of Pelican Bay, which is located on the southern end of the island. They owned and operated Herbalities, a specialty shop dealing in herbs and fortune telling. While both Bella and Tansy seemed to be more in tune with the natural rhythms of the universe than most, it was Tansy who demonstrated a level of intuition that’s downright disturbing.

I’d been pretty sure Ebenezer had been sent by Tansy due to the perfect timing of his arrival at the church, but when I’d gotten back to my cabin last night, she’d called to make certain he’d arrived safely, confirming my suspicion. I tried to pry additional information out of the taciturn woman, but all she would say was to trust Ebenezer and he would show me the way.

My relationship with Tansy’s cats began less than a year ago, when she sent me a large gray cat named Romeo to help out with the investigation of the murder of an island council member. I guess Tansy had decided the cat and I had worked well together because after Romeo left other cats began showing up. Ebenezer was the sixth one I’d worked with in this same capacity, although I worked with other cats every day because I, along with my Aunt Maggie, operate a cat sanctuary that’s dedicated to sheltering and rehabilitating the island’s feral cat population.

Now that Mayor Bradley was dead the cats might not be in the danger they once were, but that remained to be seen.

“Ebenezer, are you still there?” I called. “Can you hear me?”

I stopped walking and watched as my feline companion squeezed through a small break in the wall. The break wasn’t large enough for most adults to squeeze through, but since I’m petite I realized I’d be able to make it without a problem.

The view on the other side of the wall was much like the one on the outside: thick foliage covered with a layer of snow. I couldn’t see the house, but I suspected it was in the center of the island, where it would be the most protected from both the elements and intruders.

I could hear waves crashing in the background. I was supposed to call Trevor when I was ready for a ride home, although based on the increase in wind velocity, I wasn’t sure he’d be able to make the return trip to pick me up if we didn’t hurry.

I followed Ebenezer back to the dirt path that led to the house and then up to the front porch. I could feel my heart pounding as I worked up the courage to knock. I wasn’t sure what it was I was afraid of. The man was ancient; surely he wouldn’t, or more importantly couldn’t, hurt me.

“Last chance to back out,” I said as I stood on the cement porch, looking at the thick hardwood door.

“Meow.”

“He might not even be here.” The house was a large stone structure that looked dark from the outside. Of course most of the windows were covered in thick drapes that would block out the light from inside the house, should there be any.

Ebenezer just looked at me. I could see he was becoming impatient with my stalling.

“Okay,” I breathed. “Here goes nothing.”

I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. The iron knocker made a deep, hollow sound that seemed to echo through the area. After less than a minute an old man, stooped with age, opened the door.

“Ebenezer.” The man looked at the cat. “Wherever had you gotten off to?”

The cat meowed and trotted inside.

“This is your cat?” I asked the emaciated old man.

“It is. Who are you? And what are you doing on my property?”

“My name is Caitlin Hart. I live on Madrona Island. I found Ebenezer last night at St. Patrick’s Catholic Church and he led me here today.”

The old man, who I assumed to be Balthazar Pottage, turned and looked at the cat, who had jumped onto a table just off to the side and begun to purr.

“Damn cat,” the man grumbled, but I noticed there was warmth in his eyes as he picked him up and started down the hall. “Close the door behind you,” he instructed.

Was the man inviting me in? He’d told me to close the door behind me, but had he meant come in and then close the door, or simply close the door on my way out? Because he hadn’t specified, I decided to take my chances and come in. I closed the door and then followed the man down the hall.

The dark hardwood doors on either side of the hall were all closed. Eventually the man turned into an open room that was cozy in a shabby sort of way. There was a nice fire in the large stone fireplace that seemed to be the only heat supplied to the room. Or the whole house, for that matter. It was almost as cold in the house as it had been outside.

The white-haired man sat down in one of the chairs placed in front of the fireplace. The cat looked quite content as he curled up in his lap. I looked around the room, trying to decide what to do. There was an old sofa, but the distance from the fire was twice that from the chairs, so I decided to sit down across from my host in the other chair.

“Nice house,” I said, trying for polite conversation. I noticed a half-eaten bowl of broth on a table next to the chair.

“Bah.”

“I take you’re Balthazar Pottage?”

“Who wants to know?”

“I told you. My name is Caitlin Hart.”

“Why are you here?”

“To return your cat. At least I guess I’m supposed to return him. He showed up at the church last night and then led me here this afternoon.”

“Hmph.”

I noticed the man didn’t seem at all surprised that his cat had been found miles away on another island or that Ebenezer had managed to communicate with me his intent to pay a visit to the house today.

In spite of the fact that I was sitting across from the man he didn’t say another word. He just stared hypnotically into the fire, as if I weren’t even in the room. How in the heck was I supposed to find a smooth segue into a discussion concerning the Bayview Apartments if he wasn’t inclined to speak to me?

“I suppose I should be going, now that Ebenezer is safely home,” I began.

The man didn’t answer.

“I’m glad I finally had a chance to meet you. I’ve always wondered about your house. You can’t see it from the water with all the trees on the property. I hadn’t realized it was so large. From the outside it appears to have three full stories. Is there an attic at the top? It’s hard to tell for certain based on the roof line alone.”

The man closed his eyes. Was he going to sleep? I knew I was rambling, but I figured it was better to keep talking than to let the conversation die. Even if said conversation had, to this point, been one-sided at best.

“I imagine it gets lonely living here all alone in this big house. I guess it’s a good thing you have Ebenezer for company,” I continued to babble. “He seems like such an agreeable cat. I really enjoyed my time with him. Still, it’s odd he showed up all the way over on Madrona Island. I wonder how he got there.”

The man didn’t respond.

“I suppose he must have stowed away on one of the boats that brings you supplies. I’m sure you must get deliveries of one sort or another on somewhat of a regular schedule. Food, propane, that sort of thing. Do you travel to the other islands often? I’ve heard you prefer to remain on your island most of the time.”

The man still didn’t respond, but he did open his eyes. Maybe he was finally getting tired of my rambling and would be willing to engage in a two-way conversation. “You still here?” Pottage asked, as if to indicate he hadn’t heard a word I’d said. Not that I blamed him. Even I was getting tired of my endless chattering about nothing in particular.

“I’m afraid so. I don’t suppose you have a phone? I’m supposed to call my friend when I want him to come pick me up, but the cell service is a bit sketchy.”

“Why are you really here?” the man asked.

“I told you, to return your cat.”

He sat up straighter. “The cat comes and goes on his own timeline. If he brought you here it was for a reason. I’d like to know what that reason is.”

I moved forward in my chair in an attempt to look taller and therefore more formidable. “I wanted to speak to you about the Bayview Apartments.”

“What about them?”

“I hear you plan to tear them down.”

“So?” The man glared at me.

“So, a lot of really wonderful people live in those apartments. If you tear them down they’ll be homeless.”

The man sat forward and mimicked my body language. He might be old, but he was at least a foot taller than me, which made him look a tad more threatening than I was comfortable with.

“The apartments have fallen into disrepair. I’ve been notified that I need to bring them up to code or they’ll be condemned. I chose to have them torn down instead, not that it’s any of your business.”

I adjusted my position in my chair so I was farther away from the man’s dark stare. “Why don’t you just fix the place up? If you did you’d have a piece of property with increased value and the tenants wouldn’t have to move.”

The man got up from his chair and slowly made his way across the room. He picked up a piece of paper and then walked back across the room to hand it to me. It was an invoice that I didn’t totally understand, though I did understand the large number at the bottom of the paper.

“This is the estimate I was given when I inquired what it would take to bring the place up to the current code,” Pottage informed me.

“Wow.”

“If I spend this amount of money on that building I’ll need to double the rents in order to recover the cost. Not a single person living in the building could afford to have their rent doubled.”

“No, I guess not,” I admitted.

“The easiest solution to the problem is to tear the place down and sell off the land.”

That did make sense from a business standpoint, but certainly not from a human one.

“It might be hard to find a buyer,” I tried, even though I knew what I’d said was a bald-faced lie. The apartment building had been built on an oceanfront lot that had to be worth millions today.

“I already have a buyer. He’s made me a strong offer. He plans to build condos in the spring.”

“So why the rush? Why not wait until the spring to tear down the old apartment building? I’m sure we could work something out with the building inspector to give the tenants more notice.”

“The buyer wants the tenants gone and the building removed before he’ll sign the final paperwork. He’s offered me an incentive to have the building torn down by the end of January.”

“You have a lot of money,” I pointed out.

“I do.”

“Can’t you just fix up the place and let the tenants stay?”